


Thawing the Ice - Natasha

by Oudemia



Series: Who Holds the Devil [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt Loki, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Loki Has Issues, Loki Redemption, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mission Fic, Missions Gone Wrong, Rescue, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oudemia/pseuds/Oudemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha struggles to remember the details of a mission gone wrong, which may have dire consequences for Loki. Meanwhile Tony doesn't cope very well, and Clint has issues of his own. In short, everyone's a mess (except Nick Fury).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thawing the Ice - Natasha

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I'm doing this as a series, when it would probably make more sense as a multi-chapter fic. Apart from that I like to think of each one as a self-contained story in itself (plus, selfishly, the buzz I get from posting a new fic!)  
> Thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos - VIP seats await you all in Valhalla ;)  
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Marvel owns everything that matters.

Natasha slides into wakefulness without opening her eyes or changing the rhythm of her breathing. Sensing immediately that she isn't in her own bed, she lies still for a moment while she gathers information. She can feel all her extremities although there's a dull ache in her left leg and the right side of her chest. Her head hurts too, and her thoughts are slow and viscous. Something is definitely wrong - everything is fuzzy and hard to reach, and she can't remember how she got here. She tries to summon up her last memory but her head is filled with the sensation of falling, and the baying of dogs, and she can't make it make sense. Has she been drugged? That means she's either been captured, which is bad, or she's in hospital, which is arguably less bad, but not exactly good either. The sheets are crisp and clean-smelling, and tucked in around the edges, so hospital is more likely, but it's too soon to tell. And there's someone else in the room. She thinks, she hopes that she knows who it is, but she steels her nerves all the same as she opens her eyes. Her intuition wasn't wrong. It's Clint.

 

He doesn't smile at her, at least not with his mouth, but she can see relief in his eyes as he pulls his chair nearer to the bed and subjects her face to a close scrutiny.

 

'Damage report?' Her own voice sounds terrible to her, a thin rasp, and she can see him wince a little.

 

'Three broken ribs, a tibial fracture and a broken collarbone. Internal bleeding too, but they patched you up just in time - it could have been really bad, Nat.'

 

Could have been. And it would have been except for... What is it she needs to remember? She shouldn't be lying here, there's something she needs to do. She tries to sit up, gritting her teeth against the pain in her chest, and Clint jumps to his feet. 'Hey! Way too soon - you're not going anywhere for a while.'

 

She grimaces. 'And you're here to stop me?'

 

A fond smile tugs at the corner of Clint's mouth now. 'Anyone on the ward could stop you in the state you're in - they don't need me to do it. I'm here because you nearly died and I wanted to be here when you woke up. So are you going to settle down before you pull your stitches?'

 

'No, I... I need to...' But the thought eludes her and she collapses back with a frown.

 

Clint is looking at her really strangely, and he's just about to say something when his phone goes off. He answers it, angling his face away and talking quietly, as if he'd rather she didn't hear. 'Yeah, she's awake. She's going to be fine but.... No! Listen, she's still hazy about what happened and I don't want to...' There's a pause during which Clint's expression goes from determined to resigned. 'Understood. But don't come down here - let me talk to her and I'll fill you in after. OK?'

 

It must be Nick Fury, judging by the tone of Clint's voice. Talk to her about what? She doesn't know anything - they should be filling _her_ in on what's happened, not vice versa. She feels herself getting agitated again, and Clint leans in with a concerned look. 'Nat, I'm really sorry about this, but I need to ask you a few things and you have to stay calm and focussed. I'll keep it as short as I can but we need to know everything that you remember about the mission. Just breathe deep, ok, and try and think back.'

 

The mission. Something went wrong with the mission. There was danger all around and someone... Someone else was there with her but it wasn't Clint. Who was it? She does as Clint says, slowing her breathing down and emptying her mind and suddenly, like a punch to the side of the head, it comes back to her. Her eyes spring open, and she feels Clint's hand grasp her forearm reassuringly as she breathes, 'Loki....'

 

Clint nods slowly, never taking his eyes from hers. He doesn't push, just waits while the memories come flooding back, and eventually she is able to ask, 'He isn't back yet?'

 

A shake of his head, and she feels a knot of dread, heavy in the pit of her stomach. This isn't how it should have gone down. Where is he? Every possible scenario she can come up with is a bad one, and she swallows hard. Clint's hand squeezes her arm, and the small gesture gives her strength. They need her help, and she fights against the sluggishness of her brain, marshalling her memories before she starts to speak.

 

'I'll tell you everything I can, but we need to hurry. We may not have much time.'

 

 

*****

 

 

It was only a reconnaissance mission. They'd been sent to scout out the location of a suspected Hydra base and report back without engaging the enemy. It sounded simple enough, and Loki was all set to go solo as usual, but at the last minute, Fury enlisted her as back-up. He was upfront about his reasons - it was Loki's first proper mission in the field since the incident in the safe house four months earlier, and he didn't want the god to be out there alone if there were complications. Plus he said (and this was a direct quote) 'it's about time he learnt to play well with others, and stop with all the reclusive bullshit.'

 

She agrees to go, but she isn't happy about it. She hates breaking in a new partner; she and Clint work together like a single entity, she's used to the shorthand between them, but Loki clearly isn't the 'partner' type. Her objections are all professional, she tells herself - her own personal feelings don't enter into it, even if she knew for sure what they were. She tries not to think too much about them actually - Loki's useful, that's all. She knew he would be, right from the start. When she and Clint first found him, shell-shocked and exhausted, having fled from Asgard to the dubious sanctuary of Earth, he was a wreck. He didn't try to fight back, not when Clint put eight bullets into him, not even when she knocked the gun out of Clint's hand and he threw himself at the god, fists flying, sounds coming out of his mouth that she'd never heard him make before. He beat Loki unconscious with his bare hands, and Loki just sank to the floor and let him do it. She let him do it too, and that's another thing she doesn't like to dwell on. She tells herself that it needed to happen if they were all going to move on - Clint needed revenge and Loki needed punishment - but there was a moment when the team from SHIELD came to take Loki away that lingers uncomfortably in her memory. They'd manacled him, hand and foot, and piled him onto a stretcher, and as they were carrying him out, Loki's eyes snapped open and he caught her gaze. His expression was ghastly, hollow with despair, and she read the accusation in his eyes as clearly as if he'd spoken the words out loud.

 

_Why did you stop him?_

 

Natasha has no use for pity or guilt - pointless emotions that arrive too late to serve a purpose - but she felt a stirring then of something that felt like a mixture of the two. She'd never seen anyone look so empty. And that's when she realised what she was going to do. Imagine taking someone like Loki, someone with all that wasted potential and nothing to lose, and giving them the will to fight for a better cause. And if it helped him too, gave him something to live for, well isn't that what they did? Help people? Even ones as wretchedly misguided as Loki.

She prepared herself for an epic fight with Fury, and was taken aback when he immediately agreed with her. It was worth the risk, he said, and if she thought it was possible, then her hunch was good enough for him. That was a responsibility she hadn't really bargained on, and she lived on tenterhooks for the next few months, waiting for news of a disaster that could all be traced back to her snap decision. But it never came.

She didn't see Loki for all that time, and when next they met, he was just another agent like herself. She doesn't know what Fury said to him, or what happened in-between, but she can imagine. It probably wasn't so very different from what happened to her.

 

So here they are now, working together side by side, albeit under duress. She senses that Loki's no happier about the situation than she is, and neither of them says a word as they set off from the drop point. The sun is setting and there's a chill to the thin mountain air that makes her even more anxious to get this done as soon as possible, and get back home. But the drop point is some distance from the base, and they have a lot of ground to cover. It's on the tip of her tongue to make some surly comment about keeping up with her, but it's not necessary. There's something about the way Loki moves that impresses her despite herself. The forest is dense and the terrain is rough underfoot, but he passes through them effortlessly, as though he's strolling along a city pavement. Almost dancing as he slips between the trees. It takes the edge off her resentment at least, and although they're still walking in silence, it isn't an altogether hostile one.

 

It's Loki, in fact, who is the first to speak. 'I had rather grown accustomed to the idea that nobody wished to work with me.' He smiles, but his eyes are wary. 'I wonder what this will do to my reputation... Or indeed to yours?'

 

'It's good to challenge people's expectations once in a while,' she mutters distractedly, using a scanner to search for enemy surveillance equipment. 'Can you keep them from seeing us?' She points at a camera hidden in a nearby tree, and with a casual flick of his hand, he answers, 'Easily - it is done.'

 

'I'll just take your word for it then, shall I?'

 

He glances at her briefly, and shrugs. 'I suppose you will have to, yes.'

 

She lets out an angry huff. 'Well that's comforting, coming from the God of Lies.'

 

She actually hadn't meant it to come out so harshly, but he doesn't seem to take offence, merely raises an eyebrow. 'You can be a hard person to read, Agent Romanoff. It is fortunate for me that you have no qualms about speaking your mind.'

 

Sarcastic bastard. 'I'm not afraid of you, so if you're expecting me to tiptoe around you...'

 

'No, no,' he answers hurriedly. 'You misunderstand me. I mean it, I am glad you are able to be honest with me. Not everyone is. Even Stark sometimes...'

 

He stops himself suddenly, quickening his pace a little so she can't see his expression. Oh, and it's so hard right now to pretend disinterest. She distances herself from her colleagues, refusing to get involved in their petty squabbles and affairs, and on the whole, her indifference is totally genuine. But this? She likes Tony, largely for his refusal to be intimidated by her, and she's reluctantly invested in Loki, having more or less sponsored his present career, and she can't deny that their relationship piques her curiosity. She even questioned her sources a little more than was strictly necessary before realising that this was all getting rather personal. She'd love to ask Loki about it, but he looks like he's done talking for now. She chooses her next words carefully.

 

'Perhaps he's only trying to protect you. Honesty isn't always kinder.'

 

Loki turns around sharply and at first she thinks she's angered him. His face is pale and his jaw clenched, and he's breathing oddly. But then she looks deeper - it's not anger but... 

 

'Is something wrong?' she asks.

 

'I will be fine,' Loki answers tightly. 'Do not concern yourself, Agent Romanoff.' 

 

'Oh, I'm not concerned. I'm just not keen to explain to Fury that I had to ditch his new pet prodigy on top of a mountain because he was feeling a bit under the weather. I won't let you slow me down.'

 

The moment the words are out, she knows she's made a mistake. She's let her emotions show - she sounded petulant and spiteful, and the jibe made her realise for the first time that she is a little jealous of Loki. She was used to being Fury's right hand, his first choice for the most difficult missions, and she never truly appreciated his obvious pride in her until now. Firstborn syndrome doesn't only apply to children. Like an older sibling she feels usurped by someone more novel and demanding, and fool that she is, she's let Loki see it. She waits for him to make something of it, to jab his needles into the soreness she has just exposed, but he doesn't. He merely looks at her thoughtfully, before crouching down to dip his cupped hands into a nearby stream, and splashing cold water onto his face. She stares at him, transfixed. There's no way he didn't pick up on what she said, so... what? Has he just let her off the hook? As an indication of how much he's changed, it's more compelling than anything she's seen or heard so far.

 

He is resonating with tension, and straightening up, he asks her in a quiet voice. 'Surely you need not have taken this mission? You are a valued agent and must have some degree of leverage. Why agree to work with someone you hate so much?

 

There's such rawness behind his words that she has to force herself to look him in the face. He's still desperately pale, and droplets of water are sparkling in his hair and lashes as he says, 'I realise that hatred is what I deserve, but I rather thought everyone would be better served if I kept myself at a distance. I have tried to carry out my penance alone and yet no-one will allow me to do that. Are you here to hurt me like all the rest?'

 

Sadness, resignation, and maybe a little anger too - his voice is swimming with emotion now, and there's a slight tremble to his words. Is this how it's been for him? She knew that Clint and some of the others had been taking every opportunity to get in a few vicious blows, and she hadn't liked it, but she hadn't really thought to step in and stop it either. But now she feels sick at the idea that it's been going on all this time under her nose. And Loki thinks that she's only come for her turn, to take out her rage on him, out here where no-one can see. Would he let her? Her mind flickers ahead and she sees herself breaking that fine nose with her fist, and watching him drop to his knees at her feet. But then another image superimposes itself, of long fingers wrapped around her neck and a snarling face above hers, feral green eyes blazing with madness. How far can they push him before he snaps again? And where will they lay the blame for that?

 

Instead she chooses a different path. Things have to change, and it starts right now. 'I don't hate you, Loki.'

 

Loki looks mistrustful and weary. 'Why wouldn't you?'

 

'Tell me why I should.'

 

He looks at her in surprise, and she repeats herself. 'Tell me. I want to hear it from you.'

 

His mouth opens and closes once, then he says in a hollow voice, 'I took Barton away from you.'

 

'I got him back. What else?'

 

'I threatened you with horrors. I caused the deaths of innocents. I risked the safety of your entire world.' His expression is almost pleading, as if he's begging her to despise him. As if only that will help him to make sense of his life. But she's not going to give him that because it isn't true. Looking at him now, white and swaying, the droplets on his face like an echo of his grief, she doesn't despise him at all. She feels for him, and furthermore, she understands him. This is an old familiar path, she's just further along it than he is.

 

Her voice softens, but she's still firm as she tells him, 'Look, Loki, you need to learn to live in the moment or you're probably going to go crazy... again. Redemption is good - what you're doing now, it's really good, but trust me, it's never going to be enough, and at some point you're just going to have to let the past be the past.'

 

He's staring at her in silence, but there's a glimmer of something in his eyes that looks a little like hope, and she continues, 'I'm only telling you what you told me, remember? You can't wipe away the horrors - they're a part of you and they will never go away. So don't try and make them. Leave them where they are, do what feels right to you and get on with your life. It's what I do.'

 

'And are you happy?'

 

It's been so long since someone's asked her that that she has to take a moment to understand the question. 'Sometimes, yes. Are you?'

 

'I.... I am not certain.'

 

They walk in silence for a while, as she scans for more cameras.

 

'That was a lie.'

 

Loki's voice is soft and low and she senses that she is being given a rare insight here. He goes on, 'Sometimes I am happy also, but the very fact of it frightens me. I am not meant to be happy.'

 

Yes, this too she understands. 'Because you're supposed to be suffering? What's the use in penance if you aren't miserable all the time?'

 

He won't look at her, but she takes that as a sign that she's on the right track. 'You've had your share of pain, Loki, I know that. And I daresay there's more to come - it's a dangerous life we lead. Don't begrudge yourself a few pleasant moments.'

 

Now he looks over, and the desperation is back in his eyes. 'I do begrudge myself. I know that I am still owed retribution for my crimes and I fear that I am endangering others by my very presence. The worst punishment I can think of would be to cause the destruction of those I care about.'

 

Of course. He's afraid that Stark is going to get caught up in the karmic backlash when it finally comes, and he's struggling to get used to the idea of having something to lose once again. There's nothing she can say to help him there, it's just something they all have to live with. But this openly vulnerable young man is a far cry from the snarling spitting fiend she faced up against in the cage on the Helicarrier. She can understand what Stark sees in him. There's no denying the luminous appeal of those wide green eyes or the seductiveness of his presence. He may not be her type exactly (too slight, a touch too pretty) but it's an attractive package, combined with grace, quick wit and intelligence. So he has a dark past. So do most of her friends. If you make your living fighting demons, it doesn't hurt to have insider knowledge.

 

She's wondering if Tony knows the extent of Loki's feelings for him when she hears the god let out a groan of pain. Alarmed, she looks up to see him stagger back against a tree. He leans his head back, his eyes closed and she notices he's looking much worse. His lips are bloodless and there's a feverish flush to his cheeks. 'Something's wrong, isn't it? And don't say you'll be fine.'

 

He opens his mouth to answer her, but a split second later his eyes widen and he yells, 'Get down!' Natasha drops on instinct, and rolls onto her back to see a dark-suited figure crumpling to the ground with a knife in his chest. She spots movement in the trees above them and fires upward twice, scrambling out of the way as two bodies land with a thud. How were they so _quiet_? To sneak up on the pair of them would have taken extraordinary skill. She looks over at Loki who is grappling with two more silent figures, but before she can go and help him, someone tackles her from behind, locking her arms behind her back. She throws her head back, feeling a satisfying crunch, and simultaneously kicks backward at her attacker's kneecap. The vicelike grip slackens enough for her twist free and recover her fallen gun, finishing him off and whirling round to take out another of his friends. These guys don't appear to be armed - they must have orders to bring their prisoners back alive. She turns round in time to see Loki duck under a blow from one of his assailants, and slash his dagger across the other's hamstrings. Then as the man falls to his knees, he straightens up in a fluid continuous motion and drives his elbow into the other's windpipe. Seconds later, both attackers are stretched motionless on the ground, and Loki and Natasha are facing each other across the clearing, scanning the forest around them for further signs of danger. 

 

Finding none, she doubles over, hands on her knees, breathing hard, then glances up at Loki appraisingly. 'I haven't actually seen you in action before - not bad.' The pleased smile that brightens his face is rather endearing, and she nods toward one of the prone figures. 'That was pretty impressive what you did with your knife there. You'll have to show me that move some time.' 

 

She would never in a million years have thought he could look shy. 'Gladly. And perhaps....'

 

And then the ground gives way beneath them. 

 

 

 

They're falling into the mountain, the ground opening up to swallow them whole, and there's a roaring and a blackness all around. Some kind of a landmine, she thinks, before rational thought gives way to terror. Then earth and trees and debris are caving in top of them, burying them alive and she can't breathe, she can't see, she's going to die. It might be seconds, it might be hours later, but eventually the noise stops and there's a crushing weight on top of her, squeezing the life from her. She tries to move, but feels something grating inside her, and shrieks with the sudden agony. She's helpless, trapped, and she doesn't have the strength to move. Alone in the dark...

No, not alone. A hand reaches for hers, and strong fingers provide a lifeline. A comforting squeeze, and then the weight is being lifted from her, and the pain fills her head with blackness. When at last it clears, she sees Loki's pale anxious face looking down at her and hears him hiss, 'We must go, quickly.'

 

She barely registers how they manage to climb out of the crater in the ground, or how they make it through the forest, her arm slung over Loki's shoulder, each leaning on the other for support. Again and again they stumble and pull each other up, and her mind drifts away, unable to take in anything but their flight. She doesn't regain her senses until she finds herself slumped against the wall of a small cave, the entrance obscured by tree roots. The pain in her chest is subsiding and giving way to a comforting numbness, but she's alert enough to know that that's not a good sign.

 

The cave is suddenly lit by the glow of a small torch and she sees Loki collapsed against the opposite wall. He looks frightful, not only streaked with grime and blood, but wracked with obvious pain, and white as a sheet. He's in bad shape, and she's the superior officer here. It's her duty to get him out alive, and she pulls herself together with an effort.

 

'Call for an extraction team. We're done here.'

 

He shakes his head weakly. 'I have tried. Something is wrong with my magic.'

 

'Then use the...'

 

'No, I have checked. Your communications device is lost and mine... does not appear to work.'

 

He gestures at a band fastened around his wrist and she frowns. 'Let me see that.'

 

He slips it off and hands it to her, and a sickly feeling stirs in her as she examines it. 'Loki, this isn't SHIELD technology. I've never seen one of these before.' He stares at her in confusion, and she asks urgently, 'Who gave this to you?'

 

'It was Carl Robson, from your department of R&D. Shortly before my departure, he exchanged my usual device for this one.'

 

Their eyes meet in horrified comprehension, and she voices their thoughts out loud.

 

'Loki, I think you've been set up.'

 

Her head floods with questions that she hopes she'll get a chance to answer. Is Robson working alone or is this part of a larger conspiracy? And is it a personal attack on Loki in revenge for New York, or is he a Hydra agent targeting one of SHIELD's most valuable operatives? What does the bracelet do? Presumably it led their attackers to them, but might it also be suppressing Loki's powers? It would have been nigh on impossible to capture him otherwise. And it would explain why he's been looking so off colour...

 

She can see a similar train of thought playing across Loki's features, and with a foreign oath, he drops the bracelet to the ground and reaches for a rock to smash it to pieces. But instead he pauses, his eyes narrowing. Then the rock falls from his hand, and when he turns back to her, there's a wild look in his eyes that worries her.

 

'I am sorry,' he says, 'for everything. Were it not for me, you would not be in this situation.' He lets out a low humourless laugh. 'Even when I try to help, it seems I am destined to bring trouble. Perhaps I am not meant to be here at all.'

 

No, that isn't fair, and the thought of him not being here holds no appeal for her. Her distress has given way to a strange calm and she replies, 'None of this is your fault, Loki. You've done nothing wrong and I'd work with you again - you make a good partner.'

 

He flashes her a soulful smile. 'You may regret saying that, if we survive this.'

 

Yes, if we survive this. The cold is creeping up her legs, and it hurts to breathe. If... when their enemies find them, she won't be able to defend herself and Loki looks as though he's swiftly losing a battle with unconsciousness. She finds herself wondering, who do gods pray to when the time comes?

 

Far off, she hears the sound of hunting dogs barking, and it's an ugly sound, but she can't run any more. Her eyes drift closed, then open again as she feels something warm being laid over her.

 

'I dare not start a fire in case someone sees.' Loki's voice is apologetic and she notices he's no longer wearing a jacket. Where did it go? Fire, what fire? Why can't she think properly? The torch casts strange shadows on his face and she remembers a story from her childhood, a folk tale, about a young sorcerer who can turn himself into a wolf or a bird, and leads an army to victory. Through numb lips, she mumbles 'Have you ever been to Russia?'

 

'No, but I would like to see it one day.' He smiles, and she thinks no wonder they wrote stories about you. Strange, sad, beautiful... Her mind fills with that smile and it carries her gently away.

 

'I'll take you there some time. There's a cafe in St Petersburg where they...' but she can no longer remember what they do there, only that she wishes she were there now, and he was there with her, safe, and happy for once. She'd like to see him happy.

 

The baying of the hounds is getting nearer, and she knows it won't be long. 'They're going to find us.'

 

'No. They are not.' His smile has gone now, and he looks calm, peaceful almost. 'At least, they are not going to find you.'

 

He slides a ring from his finger and places it carefully in the palm of her hand, saying 'I activated it some time ago, I do not think he will be very long.' At first she doesn't understand, until he adds quietly, 'Tell Stark... tell him I have regretted nothing since I met him.' And then he fastens the tracking device around his wrist again. 

 

No. Her words are slurring and faint and she struggles to get them out. 'Loki, don't. They'll kill you.'

 

'Oh, is that all?' he says lightly, and she clutches at his arm. But her grip is feeble, and he gently extricates her fingers, then raises the back of her hand to his cold lips. It's a gesture she has experienced many times before, either with irony, formality or smarm, but never like this, sweetly, and with quiet respect.

 

'If it were not for you,' he murmurs, 'I would never have had the chance to redeem myself. Are you going to take that away from me now, Agent Romanoff?'

 

'Natasha...' she whispers, and he nods, rising wearily to his feet. 'Goodbye, Natasha.'

 

At the entrance to the cave, she sees him stumble and steady himself against the wall and she calls to him - 'Wait!' - but he doesn't turn around, just pushes himself upright and staggers on. And then he's gone and the sound of the dogs grows fainter and fainter. And after a short while, so does everything else, until there's nothing.

 

 

*****

 

 

Natasha sleeps for a long time after finishing her story, and the next time she wakes, it isn't Clint in the chair next to her, but Nick Fury. 

 

'They said you were doing better,' he tells her, 'It's good to have you back with us again.'

 

She's not really interested in herself at the moment, she just wants to know what's happened since she was last conscious.

 

Fury's good eye assesses her for a moment. 'Your report was useful, you did good work there, Agent Romanoff. We've got Carl Robson in custody and Barton is interrogating him as we speak. We're keeping an eye on things though, Barton is taking this very very personally and it can get ugly in there.' He sighs. 'All we've got out of Robson so far is that Hydra wants Loki alive, we don't know why yet. But it gives us some time to work with, at least.'

 

As her heart sinks, she realises she'd been hoping that Loki would have returned by now. How wonderful it would have been if she'd woken up to find _him_ sitting in that chair, grinning at her, one foot idly propped up on her bed. Instead he's being....no, wild imaginings won't help him. Loki needs real help now. They need to find him, and fast. She remembers the ring he gave her, presumably some kind of tracking device from Stark. If only he'd kept it when he led their pursuers away - but then again she'd be dead now if he had.

 

'It was Stark who found me?' she asks weakly, and Fury confirms it with a nod. 'He got you to safety then went straight back to the mountain to look for Loki. He's there now, tearing the mountain apart. I swear, I have never seen him like this - it's like he's gone crazy.' The Director slumps back in his chair, looking suddenly beat. 'He tried to contact Thor - no luck so far - then he started on Clint, in case they still had a residual psychic link that could lead us to Loki. That didn't go too well either. I don't want him out there, stirring things up, but I'm not sure anyone could stop him right now. Anyway... I guess it gives him something to focus on while we come up with a rescue plan.'

 

And the way he says it rekindles hope in her chest at last. This isn't over yet. She sounds, and feels, very much like herself again as she tells him, 'Whatever the plan is, count me in.'

 

'Strangely enough, that's exactly what Barton said too.' There's pride in his one eye, and she knows that her jealousy of Loki is a thing of the past. He's earned his place here, and she'll be glad to share it with him. She believes Fury utterly when he says, 'And I'll tell you what I told Stark. It doesn't matter any more what Loki was or what he did - what matters is who he is now. He's proved beyond doubt that we can trust him, and now we have to show him that he can trust us. Which means we don't give up until we get him back.' He fixes her with a look of absolute conviction. 'And we will get him back, I promise you.' 

 

 


End file.
